Love & Maddness
by FaerieBreath
Summary: Catherine & Henry's relationship has always been complicated, often unbearably so, yet they never seemed to have truly lost their spark. What might it take to rekindle it into a fire? What might it take to rebuild their trust?


Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

'Love is but the foolish attempt of the lonely soul to strive for completion inexhaustibly.

Though the pen may write and the heart may seek it's desires all are in vein; for all but the artist or the poet can find truth in such a fallacy.

In all but the kindest of hearts and the simplest of thoughts this truth is so fleeting that it is a mere dream - an apparition of the thoughts and the desires of the ever seeking heart to find what it cannot create and to seek what it cannot find.

Love is…'

'No', she thought to allow herself to consider such things would be to travel down a vein of thought she simply could not afford to take.

Closing her eyes against the onslaught Catherine tried to move away from her inner musings. Nothing good could possibly come out of it, nothing but heartache and sorrow.

She had always been taught that love was a delusion. That people loved what you could give them, not who you were, and so far the teaching had been proven right over and over again. Her family, her husband…even her children, many of them would likely leave her for their own husbands and families, some had already left her with little more than a memory of what was, a dream of what might have been.

No one truly wanted to know her, to be with, or to come along side of Caterina the Italian peasant…rich though she may be. It was her wealth and her title that gave her importance, that people wanted to come along side of with the futile hope that a little of what she had would rub off on them, or that they might try to steal away what she had.

She had been bitter at Diane for so many years for doing just that, though it wasn't just Diane.

There had been others, many others that had proven the lesson to her. Even little Mary, small and unassuming as she was could never seem to reconcile their semi-equal standing in her head.

Certainly in her own court Catherine was of a greater position by right, but the little Queen still sought to mark out a place of her owns, even at the cost of the ruling Queen herself.

The first afternoon when Catherine had gone to seek out her new guest, Mary had been in such a mood that she demanded that whoever had come be turned away. The whole room froze, French servants as well as Scottish ones. The later knew better because of her position, the former for who and what they knew their Queen could be.

The older Queen knew that there were many that were terrified of her. She had crafted this persona carefully over the years. Although there were a few less than pleasant side effects of this particular method, by in large it accomplished what it needed to.

It had been somewhat unpleasant for Catherine as the young Scottish Queen adjusted to living in a new court where she was at present merely a royal guest, but it was a good thing for Mary to find a way to come into her own. A woman did not make it far in this world without making her own path and pounding down the earth to carve out her place in such an unforgiving world. But it was still painful to be on the receiving end from someone who was doing so at the expense of another.

Catherine had certainly not asked for another child, especially one that was not her own. That little ball of energy Catherine soon found out was so insistent, so determined, so opinionated…

It was everything Catherine wished she could have been and was never allowed.

Mary would certainly make a distinctive ruler some day. She had the looks to charm every man that walked across her path and the capacity to command all those under her with a fierce determination.

And yet she couldn't help but wish there was another way. That fear was not the most easily attainable, albeit costly method of keeping her subjects in line and herself at the top.

Fear from her subjects and fear of the very thing she desired the most.

Love…and there was that word again.

Power might have been the currency of the world, but love was the currency of the heart

To love and be loved, she didn't think there was a woman alive that did not have this desire, this longing.

She truly could not be certain of where most men stood on this issue. They seemed to be satisfied with the shallowest fulfillment of their basal desires, though there were a few she had known who she thought might have desired more.

And then there seemed to be another take on the matter. What was that the priest and read just this past Sunday from 1 Corinthians 14?

'Love suffers long and is kind, love does not envy,

Love does not parade itself, is not puffed up;

Does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil;

Does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;

Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails.'

The first time she had read that she grabbed hold of it like a lifeline. She was young at the time and decided that her family must have been wrong and this must have been the fulfillment of love.

It must be, it had to be.

It wasn't.

If it was God that had commissioned those words perhaps only He could achieve such a thing, could command such a thing, could love in such a way.

She had never seen such a love.

Not from her family, not between friends, definitely at court, and certainly not between husband and wife. No especially not there.

Actually that was not true. She had seen it, but indeed those examples had been so far and few between it seems highly unlikely that it had been anything more than a figment of her imagination. Her desires altering what she saw in her mind's eye to satisfy the hopes and dreams of an innocent girl, searching for what would never be.

Henry had been visiting her less and less lately, again. Not just at night, but withdrawing during the day and becoming more distant. The rumors too had begin to circulate once more.

His infidelity was nothing new, she didn't even know why it was considered anything more than a blip in the social gossip of French Court. Her ladies of course kept her abreast of the most pertinent elements, if he had his eyes on someone important or someone that might cause her a degree of trouble either now or later.

Actually that was a lie. She did know why she had paid attention, why it hurt so much.

Not two days ago his body had been warming her bed.

Two days.

It was like a knife through her gut that reached all the way up to hear heart and pierced her center, her very being.

She could still smell his scent on her sheets.

The morning after that last night she had woken up alone and knew.

She ordered that her bed should be made up as it was and that the sheets should not be changed until she said so. Closing her eyes now it was so easy to drift back to the way his arms and chest felt wrapped around her smaller frame. She always felt small in his presence, and when they were alone she occasionally allowed herself to enjoy that feeling.

To be protected and cared for, to be lo….no!

The word that would haunt her till the end of her days.

Over the years Henry had bought her loyalty, claimed her heart, and once more he had almost convinced her to trust him.

Fortunately she had been saved from that fate soon enough.

A futile hope.

A wish and desire born out of something she could not understand, could not control.

Love. What a sick, delusion.

To think that anyone would love…that anyone could love…

The vice wrapped around her chest became almost too much to bear.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she gave in to weakness, just for a moment. Oh Henry, why?

Just then her doors opened. She turned away and scolded her ladies for allowing anyone in without her express permission.

When no one answered she worked to pull herself under control when she felt strong arms come around her from behind. Shaking her head she tried to loose herself from those arms but he only held on more tightly.

"Henry I am in no mood for this. I am not here to simply receive you whenever you see fit, despite what others may say. I am not just some commoner, not anymore, and to be treated like on of your other female playmates…I won't have it."

Her tone was angry and bitter, a bad combination with Catherine.

Deciding not to try and match her with words he instead opened one of his hands which had been curled into a fist and raised it as far as he could without letting go.

He felt her freeze.

Hoping that this meant she wouldn't run he was quite confused when she began shaking her head all the faster and trying again in earnest to be let free of his grasp.

"Get off of me Henry!"

Confused he did as she asked and let her be, giving herself a moment to collect herself.

Marching over to the windows she crossed her arms over her chest and just stood there, never uttering a word.

"Catherine I…"

"Don't Henry, just leave me be."

He walked up behind her anyway. He had come here for a reason and he would not be deterred.

She heard his footsteps from the outset, he never was very good at doing anything quietly, and turned around to meet him. When he was about a foot away she held up her finger to stay his approach.

"Your words will do no good Henry, I already know you have been spending time with another and will not be toyed with like this."

Confused for a moment Henry took a moment to consider her words.

He had been particularly busy with matters of state over these last few weeks and somewhat avoiding her the last few days lest he give away his surprise.

He was terrible at keeping a secret and knew it.

Deciding not to try and fight this and add more fuel to her fire he turned and moved toward the door.

Catherine let out a breath at Henry's seeming acquiescence. Instead of leaving though he simply opened the door and spoke to someone on the other side, presumably one of her ladies.

Fine, if he wanted to do this the hard way she would simply wait him out.

That was nothing new either.

Ignoring him she moved to pick up the book she would have otherwise been reading if not for this inconvenient distraction.

Henry remained by the door and began to pace.

It was annoying but he would only keep it up for so long and then she would finally be left in peace to tend to her wounded heart.

This went on for several minutes until her door opened and Henry spoke once again to someone on the other side. Nodding his head he moved to step around the door but said nothing more.

'Humph' she thought, it was just as she thought…and good riddance.

Turning back to her book though she still had trouble focusing on her intended task.

Several pages later…she had needed to reread several of them thanks to her wandering thoughts, her door once again opened unannounced and she turned her head in annoyance.

There lined up against the wall were several of her ladies as well as a few of the castle servants including cooks, once of the gardeners and the castle jeweler.

Now thoroughly puzzled and properly aggravated Catherine opened her mouth to speak but Henry beat her to it.

"Catherine, I now see how my recent actions must have appeared to you and decided to show you what I have been up to rather than trying to explain it to you in what would probably seem like more of an excuse than an actual explanation."

One at a time Henry went down the line of…witnesses for lack of a better word detailing much of his time spent away from her, or the children, or matter of state.

The new dress that appeared suddenly in her wardrobe that she assumed had simply taken too long to come back from being mended, the flowers that had begun appearing in some of her frequently visited spaces, the new pastries that had been included with her afternoon tea.

Henry hadn't abandoned her, he had been courting her quietly and in a manner that was very unlike him.

Finally her ladies were prompted to describe this 'woman' who had supposedly captured the King's attentions of late, and slowly the parts and pieces began to fall into place.

Catherine had been silent this whole time and as her last lady spoke Henry had become unnaturally still, looking at her with affection but allowing the others to speak for him, to draw his wife to the truth that he had been hiding form her too well.

Dismissing them he remained where he was as she watched them file out.

Allowing the silence to stretch out for several moments afterward he slowly began to approach her. She hand't moved except to watch Henry's witnesses file out quietly.

Henry stopped a little over a foot away and again brought his gift in her line of vision.

It was a ring of an older design, simple but elegant. An opal rested in its middle surrounded by a delicate gold Fleur de lise on either side.

Reaching out as if to touch the ring she withdrew her hand almost immediately. She closed her eyes to try and remain in control, to regain control of a situation which Henry had effectively grabbed a hold of and her with it.

"This was my mother's ring featuring her birthstone," Henry began. I found it after my father died and have kept it with me ever since."

Catherine's eyelids slowly rose, hearing him plainly for the first time that night.

Reaching for her right hand once more Henry slowly cradled it and brought it towards his own gently.

"Since then I have kept it near me, to keep her near me."

Drawing her fingers straight he slid it onto her third finger, mirroring the wedding band that rested on her other hand.

"Between my parents I have the fondest memories of my mother. How she loved me for every little thing that I did right, and would hardly criticize me for my mistakes once they were dealt with and resolved. Something I never could say about my father, especially after her death."

Grasping her fingers gently he made sure that she was till listening before he continued.

"In these last few weeks I have been reminded that like my mother you have truly stood by me all these years, no matter my indiscretions."

Catherine opened her mouth to remind him how wrong he was, to try and bring this back around from the cliff that it and she were soon to be careening off of.

Predicting her rebuttal though he gestured for her silence and continued on.

"It may have been in some ways out of duty or self preservation, but when I look into your eyes Catherine, when I look any farther than what you present to the world I can see it. I can see what I missed in my haste to seek fulfillment and comfort in that which is so temporary and passes so quickly, in anything but you my love."

Bringing one hand up to cup her cheek he continued. "You and I are both our own kind of difficult to love and to cherish, but we are indeed all that each other has, are all that we need. I deeply regret taking so very long to realize this."

"So I am a last resort then? How comforting." Her words were sharp but she lacked the proper emphasis to deliver them with her usual barbarous sting.

"No Catherine, you are not."

Turning her face out of his grasp and looking downward she continued. "Henry your gestures have been sweet, but it has been too long. Far too little for far too long."

"Really Catherine? Then what is that I have seen in your eyes in these last moments, in the slight tremble of your hands and the hitch in your breath?"

Shaking her head Catherine turned away once again crossing her arms. She couldn't help however but run her thumb over the ridges of the newly gifted ring and run his words though her head.

Opening and closing his mouth a few times Henry finally just gave up and waited for her to say or do something.

After what seemed like an eternity she finally spoke. "If you ever do something like this to me again I will never see you like this in my bedchamber, you will not be welcome."

Turning back to face him she took a moment to observe him before walking past and on to her wardrobe.

Releasing a breath he had not realized he had been holding, Henry wasn't quite sure what to do next. Fortunately Catherine was several steps ahead of him and was already walking back over with a small pile of folded bedclothes.

Placing them in his arms she was moving away to ready herself for bed when he caught her wrist.

Tensing immediately she expected him to force her into something she was not ready for, but instead all he did was move closer and place a chaste kiss on the top of her head.

"Thank you Catherine, for giving me another chance."

Nodding her head sharply she didn't say a word, and simply busied herself with getting herself ready for bed.

Later once Catherine had finished, she joined Henry who had already tucked himself in between the sheets. He was lying on one side and watching her. Folding back the covers so that she could get in as well she felt herself tensing again.

Hear heart ached for what she could not have, her voice would not have sounded a single word if she tried.

'Love is fickle and a cheerless bedmate; equally persistent and often ill-timed.

It speaks to the heart and calls to the soul as an old friend and secret companion. It draws on the soul as a babe seeks for milk, endlessly asking and seeking its fill.

Oh woe is one that falls prey to its whims; that falls under it's spell, that seeks for it's shade. Yet happy is one that seeks and does find; that asks and is answered, that loves without fear. Love always persists, but sometimes will fail.

This love is one that is found amongst men but remains the quest of a fool.

For what men can attain is all sorrow and loss, as Solomon's vanity so can we trust. Only God can know love so full and so free so endless in depth, given without an end.

Oh God thou art God and has seen to me thus, that my love is a figment that hides in a lie. So help me to seek that which cannot now fail, not now nor forever of love that You speak. Of love that I long for, of love that You give, if now is forever and forever's no end.'

As she laid back amongst the covers and Henry moved to gather her in his arms she did not protest.

She did indeed know that he would fail her again. For knowingly or otherwise he was only a man which brought with it certain fallacies.

A man and a King, though at least he was hers.

Raising her right hand Catherine gazed at the ring. Precious indeed to the bearer and now to the wearer.

Gazing up into his eyes she allowed a small smile to graze her lips.

He had indeed been watching her with curious eyes, curious and waiting.

Placing her newly adorned hand on his chest Catherine flexed her fingers and allowed her fingernails to graze his skin lightly. Reaching up to place a kiss on his lips she snuggled further into his strong chest.

Hers, he was hers.

They were a team, no matter the distance.

So many years, so many memories, such a legacy.

She was his and he was hers.

For as long as they both drew breath.

Her love.


End file.
